Opinion
Column

Frank discussion needed of sex attacks on reserves

Two years ago, the Atlantic Monthly published an investigative story titled "Rape culture in the Alaskan wilderness." It was a frank piece about the state's horrific rate of sexual assault, where the rape rate is almost three times the national average, and where "for child sexual assault, it's nearly six times." Moreover, Alaskan women of native ancestry reported even higher rates.

That article came to mind with the October report from Alberta's child and youth advocate, Del Graff, on a four-year-old girl, Serenity (identified by the pseudonym Marie in his report). The First Nations child died in 2014, after one year in the care of relatives. The grandparents were checked for a criminal record; others living at their residence were not.

Soon after placement, Serenity and two siblings were reported to have "unexplained marks, bruises and scratches and appeared malnourished." One year on, the grandmother took Serenity to the hospital, again claiming a fall; Serenity died a week later.

In his report, Graff wrote of how Serenity "and her family . . . lived primarily on, or near their First Nation." Such information may be relevant, or not, to the abuse and death of Serenity. At a minimum, sexual assault on First Nations is a problem, according to aboriginal women who have come forward in recent months to state just that.

In August, CBC Radio interviewed "Deborah" from Vanderhoof, B.C., (her last name was not provided) who explained why exposing sexual assault is problematic: "There's a really strong no-talk culture on First Nations reserves where people know things are going on," but they don't talk about it lest they become targets themselves.

When two young girls came to her for help and she brought the matter to the courts, someone tried to burn down her house.

Earlier this month, Freda Ens, now 59, told The Canadian Press how when she was a child in B.C.'s Masset village, she had been raped by relatives. Ens urged others to come forward to talk about it, otherwise, "We are covering it up."

Perry Bellegarde, the national chief of the Assembly of First Nations, is commendable when he says native leaders have an obligation "to expose this to the light of day."

If, similar to Alaska, Canada's reserves are one day found to have rates of sexual assault higher than elsewhere in the country -- and that is not clear from current data -- it would be a mistake to conclude there is something unique to First Nations.

Instead, it is better to learn from past sexual abuse scandals about what factors might allow predators to remain unchallenged.

One ingredient is power. Think of the principals in some residential schools of yesteryear.

There is also the notion of the sacred: think of the priests in decades past in some parishes where parishioners were reluctant to out such individuals.

Then add in a remote location and/or small community where everyone knows everyone else. All of it makes outing perpetrators difficult.

This combination is in danger of being ignored again: governance on some reserves, especially remote ones, that gives too much power to a few; a reluctance to appear critical of anything that touches on aboriginal life given historic, mainstream treatment of First Nations; the risk that identifying a problem on some reserves will be wrongly assumed as representative of all reserves.

The concerns are legitimate. But when First Nations women ask that sexual assault on reserves be exposed, we owe them that frank discussion.